The Denarian Omakes
by Shezza
Summary: A collection of omakes written by various authors. Credits go to Surarrin, Nuhuh and Taure. I hope you enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

_Ahoy,_

_ Over time, the Denarian Series- including the Denarian Renegade, the Denarian Knight and the upcoming Denarian Lord, have become quite popular- more popular than I could have ever envisioned, actually. There have been tons of reviews from the readers and a few little bonus things from some of my fellow writers, namely Surarrin, Nuhuh and most recently, Taure._

_Each of them found something they saw in the stories and wrote an omake about it. I've collected them now and are presenting them to you, so that you can read and marvel and do all that type of stuff over them, and the authors can get the praise they deserve. I haven't had a hand in any of them, this is all their work, so I hope you enjoy._

_Sincerely,_

_Shezza88_

_P.S- When I kiss arse, I do it well, don't I?_


	2. Surarrin: The Imperius Curse

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**Title:** The Imperius Curse

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**Author: **Surarrin aka Jon

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Harry watched with a bored as the blonde haired girl in front of him twirled her wand in a complicated and utterly amateurish way. She had a look of complete concentration on her face. Her lips moved in silent incantations. It was the tenth time she had gone through the mantra and a look of irritation had slowly began to take hold on her face.

Beyond the girl an elegant woman draped in a loose flowingly silver dress sat on seemingly empty space. She had a dispassionate look upon her face as she stared at the young girl standing between her and Harry.

"Had enough?" Harry asked in an amused tone, "Ready to try it out?

Amanda gave him a look of wide eyed surprise. "But it's a…an Ebola curse you said." she spoke slowly, as if unsure of what Harry was saying. At Harry's nonplussed look she continued hotly, "I'm not going to use it on a person!"

Harry nodded acceptingly before he slipped off of the desk he was sitting on. "It'd be pretty hard to hide the body if you did," Harry admitted before he gave Amanda an 'innocent' smile. "Instead I-" he faltered as Meciel's illusion looked at him sharply. "Meciel," he admitted grudgingly, "is going to help out."

Amanda's look of vehemence faded away into one of confusion. "How am I going to use it on..." She seemed to have a hard time saying the Meciel's name. "...the Fallen?" she murmured.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Not on her brat."

'_I'm taking control_,' Meciel's voice whispered into Harry's ear as the illusionary form sitting on thin air vanished without a trace.

He paused and allowed Meciel's burning presence to spread out through his body, it lingered in his veins for a mere moment before Harry's arms began to move of their own-- or rather, Meciel's accord. Harry's wand flowed through the air with a languid flow and elegance that his limbs normally lacked. His eyes made contact with Amanda's who had tensed the moment his arms had begun to move. She recognized Meciel's movements, Harry mused as he felt a rush of magic leave him, and envelop one of the many tables in the room. The table's dusty mahogany surface warped and withered before shrinking violently and spindly a small feline form.

"You will be attempting the Ebolias curse on this kitten," Harry's voice spoke without his consent as Meciel took hold of his lips.

_'We agreed on a dog_,' Harry pointed out to Meciel in his mind blandly, before adding on, 'Good idea.' with a sadistic smirk in the real world.

'_It is a mere amusement_,' Meciel murmured in his mind, Harry couldn't help but notice a vicious undertone to it, though it seemed Meciel hadn't attempted to hide it. Harry turned his attention to the real world just in time to hear Amanda speak.

"You're kidding!" she exclaimed angrily, "I'm not going to kill a kitte- Even if it isn't a real one, just because you want me to!"

Harry stared at Amanda in an amused manner for a few moments before gesturing to the mewling kitten. "How about an Unforgivable then?" he asked, but Amanda remained steadfast in her refusal to curse the target.

"Fine then, if you're not gonna do it I will." He pointed his wand towards the Cat. "_Cru-"_

"Wait!" Amanda suddenly called out, causing Harry to stop in the middle of casting his spell.

"What?" he demanded to know coolly.

Amanda fidgeted under Harry's gaze for a moment before meeting his eyes. "I can cast any of them right?" She gave a visible sign of relief when Harry nodded. Amanda lifted her wand up from her side and pointed it towards the cat, which had begun to explore around the floor.

"_Imperio!_" she muttered softly. At first it seemed the spell had failed, the Cat remained mewing and with its head held level. Without warning it rolled onto it' side and pawed at the air as if it were playing.

Harry was about to make a disparaging comment, but a look at Amanda's expression had him hold his tongue. The blonde haired girl's lips were quirking up slightly as she watched the kitten paw at an imaginary ball of yarn. It seemed Amanda had noticed Harry's lingering gaze; after a few moments the kitten stood up again and moved closer to Harry, rubbing against his shoe in an affectionate way. He resisted the urge to kick it away quite well in his opinion. His foot hadn't twitched as much as once. After a few moments the Kitten scampered back to Amanda who crotched down and scratched it behind the ear with a now wide, smile upon her face.

She looked up at Harry expectantly.

At the look Harry continued to stare down at her and the kitten, before after a few moments his eyes widened in mock surprise. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "You wanted me to _praise_ you?"

Amanda frowned. "Well I did cast an Unforgivable. I thought you'd be... you know, happy or something."

Harry gave Amanda a blank look.

"They're called unforgivable for a reason you know," he began to say patronizingly. "They're unforgivably _easy_ especially Imperio. Why would I praise you for something one in this school could do? If you want my praise at least use it on a person."

"It's illegal to use them on another human being!" Amanda pointed out in a strained voice as Harry's constant putdowns began to ware her patience down.

"Only if they find out about it." Harry corrected with a smirk. "We could get Bushy McBucktooth in here and use her, it isn't like she'd tell anyone if I erased her memory, and if she did she'd probably lie and say I did it just to spite me."

"I am not going to curse Hermione!" Amanda almost shouted.

"Well how about me then?" Harry mocked Amanda half heartedly.

"You?" she asked as a look of surprise passed over her face, and her mouth hung ajar.

"Yeah, come on, take your best shot, I give you permission to curse me." A mocking look overcame Harry's face as concern passed over Amanda's face. The concern quickly vanished and a glower passed over Amanda's face, she snapped her jaw shut.

"You have the fallen," Amanda pointed out, "Even if I did cast it on you it isn't like it'd work with her being in your head."

"Meciel won't stop you." Harry's cocky smirk widened. "I'll even give you a tip: Try and make me scratch my nose, it's a bit itchy so I _might_ actually do it."

'_I won't?' _Meciel echoed bemusedly inside Harry's mind. '_The wisdom in allowing another being power over your mind eludes me, beloved." _

'_No harm letting her try and fail'_ Harry explained to Meciel before hesitantly adding on; '_Plus it won't do any harm to have some practice in case one of _those_ situations happen again and besides, if she tries anything you can stop it.'_ Harry felt Meciel give a twinge of resignation, and nothing more came from her. A few seconds later the warmth he associated with Meciel withdrew into the deepest recesses of his mind, leaving him to feel the cool atmosphere of the classroom. This all happened in the split second it took for Amanda to react to what he had said to her.

A flicker of annoyance passed over Amanda's face, and Harry watched in amusement as she leveled her wand with his face and barked out the magic word; "_Imperio!_" Harry almost took a step back as the narcotic-like effect of the spell washed over him, leaving him adrift in the semi-corporeal state of his mind which ironically was white. He could absently feel the smouldering presence of Meciel at the very edge of the sea of nothingness he was floating in.

"Scratch your nose." A female voice demanded sarcastically.

_My nose is a bit itchy._

Harry felt his hand rise up to scratch his nose.

"On second thoughts don't."

_I want to scratch my nose though._

His hand halted just before it touched his nose with some reluctance.

"Put your wand away." The voice said again, this time quietly, almost unsurely.

_No way._

"Put your wand away, please?"

_Well since you put it that way—No._

Harry felt the bliss surrounding his mind begin to crumble as he began to resist the 'commands' being given to him.

"Sit down and relax." The voice offered with no little amount of hesitation.

_Don't mind if I do_.

Harry sat down on the table behind him and relaxed as much as the table let him. Though, with the effect the spell was having on his mind he didn't need to try much at all.

"What do you think of my sister Molly?"

_She's a gigantic bitch._

Harry felt his lips move but he couldn't hear what was being said.

The feminine giggle found it's way to Harry's ear. He frowned inwardly he recognized the girly laugh.

"What do you think about my mum?"

_She's an evil bitch who hides behind a wordy shit filled book._

"It's not," the female voice insisted half-heartedly. "If you weren't so biased against it you would know that." The voice paused again "And what do you think about me?"

_You're probably a bitch as well._

Once again he felt his lips move to speak but couldn't piece together what he was saying. As he finished he could only hear silence.

Amanda stared at Harry, her cheeks flushed a light red. She had a million questions she'd have loved to ask, but as the black haired boy in front of her had incidentally pointed out; If he didn't want to do it then there wasn't a good chance at all that she'd get him to. Though, it seemed he had no reservations where telling people what he thought about them was concerned.

She stared across at Harry's lightly glazed over emerald eyes. Her grip on her wand tightened.

"Come over here and stand in front of me." Amanda commanded quietly.

Harry's body seemed to protest for a moment, but it soon conceded and slipped off of the table it was sitting on and moved over to stand in front of Amanda. The girl in question let her gaze slip to the side as her heart pounded in her chest. Her eyes flickered up to Harry's face and back down again as a debate momentarily went on inside her mind. Either way he'd know how she felt, and if he didn't feel the same way, she could just play it off as a joke.

Amanda licked her lips and matched Harry's gaze again. "Kiss me."

She let out small yelp of surprise as without a single hesitation Harry leaned forwards and pressed his lips against hers. After the surprise passed Amanda began to kiss back. As the seconds ticked on and nothing else happened Amanda began to feel uncomfortable and awkward. She broke away from the kiss and focused her attention for a moment. "Kiss me…" she struggled to find the right word. "Passionately." She decided on.

She didn't make a noise as once again Harry all but pounced on her. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her against him. Amanda felt herself melt against Harry as he resumed kissing her with fervour, she slipped her arms around his neck and didn't notice as her wand slipped from her grasp and clattered against the floor.

As the bliss clouding Harry's mind vanished he felt a body pressed tightly against his, and a pair of lips working slowly against his own. The scent of mango filled his nose; it took Harry a few jumbled moments to remember what had happened and to piece the rest of the situation together. While his mind caught up on the events prior his tongue tingled with the sweet taste of something he hadn't had in more then a few months—mango.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he wrenched himself from Amanda's grip.

"What is it with you and mango?" Harry demanded to know as he forcefully pushed Amanda off of him.

"Wha... Why'd you stop?" Amanda said dazedly before she protested, her cheeks were flushed pink. It took her a few more moments to process what Harry had said. "I had some gum." She explained absently before shaking her head. "I _had_ some I don't know where it went."

Harry frowned before twirling his tongue around in his mouth. He snorted and stuck his tongue out, revealing a light orange wad of gum stuck to the tip.

"Oh," Amanda murmured before she blushed and glanced away.

Harry stared at Amanda's face blankly before he slowly began to speak. "You know, I never figured you the kind to molest someone while using dark magic on them." He smirked slightly, "Imagine what your parents would say if they found out you had such a deranged habit."

A sheepish look crossed Amanda's face before she shook it off and met Harry's eye boldly.

"You wanted to kiss me."

Harry opened his mouth.

"Don't even try to deny it," Amanda interrupted him. "When I tried to make you put your wand away I couldn't, but when I made you do thinks you wanted to you did it… and you didn't even hesitate when you kissed me." She trailed off with a pleading look.

Harry snorted, "So what? If you listened to what I say every single day you'd know what I want."

"Sex." Amanda answered quietly, looking away from Harry.

"Wow, she has a memory," Harry said sarcastically. "And I'm not going to wait around for a few years just to sleep with you—and don't even think I'd marry you." A hurt look passed across Amanda's face, causing Harry to pause. "Look. I'm fine with murder, kicking babies, all that. But I refuse to rape a girl so don't even try to go down this path."

Amanda didn't say anything. They both stood in silence.

"So should I leave?" Amanda asked quietly.

Harry snorted and shook his head. "No, _you'll _just forget about this," he explained casually as he took a few steps back from Amanda and sat back on the desk behind him.

A wave of relief passed over Amanda's face. "Good, because even if we di—Wait, what do you mean I'll forget about it? Don't you mean both of us?" she asked confusedly.

"No," Harry disagreed as he raised his wand and pointed it towards Amanda. "Only _you_ will forget about this."

Amanda's eyes widened and she clenched her right hand, only to be startled by the absence of her wand.

Harry gave an amused smile. "Rule number one; Never drop your wand. Not that you'll remember it. _Obliviate!_"

Amanda stared dazed at Harry before blinking rapidly.

"I'm sorry, what were we doing?" Amanda asked guiltily giving Harry a sheepish smile.

"You passed out," Harry said simply as he dropped his wand arm to his side. He lifted his other arm up and pointed to the small kitten that had been on the sideline the entire fiasco. "Ebolias curse. Now."

"You're kidding!" Amanda exclaimed angrily, "I'm not going to kill a kitten- Even if it isn't a real one, just because you want me to!"


	3. Surarrin: Hugabug

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**Title: **Hugabug

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**Author: **Surarrin aka Jon

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The Gryffindor common room was quiet, only the occasional crackling of the ever lit fireplace shone any life onto the gold and crimson draped walls. Despite the warmth of the fire—or rather, because of it the sole occupant in the room was sitting on the opposite side of the room, her back pressed up against the cold stonework. The carpet which covered the floor was rolled away under her.

Amaris stared blankly at the back of one of the crimson couches. Beside her a blanket was piled, unused. Amaris idly traced her fingers against the rough stonework as she watched a dark blue tinge begin to colour the sky through the few windows that decorated the upper echelons of the common room.

Amaris's ears picked up the sound of the soft fall of feet against a staircase, and out of the corner of her eye she caught a flicker of blonde hair along with a face that registered in her memory. At first the notion that the girl would just pass by without attempting to engage her in conversation passed through the small girls mind, but it was quickly dismissed as the blue eyed girl made a bee line straight for her the moment that their eyes met.

The older girl, Amanda wore an overly large t-shirt that met her mid thigh, it was a white shirt with no remarkable features, at first Amaris had mistaken it for one of the garments that she had seen the other girls wearing—nighties as they called them.

Amanda smiled down at Amaris in a, what she hoped to be, friendly way. "Morning," she greeted groggily.

"Good morning… Brat." Amaris murmured. "Do you not require additional rest to function adequately?" Amaris asked, tilting her head to the side as she studied Amanda with an innate curiosity.

At first it seemed Amanda was going to reprimand Amaris but she caught herself as her lips opened. Instead she gave a soft smile and kneeled down in front of the younger girl. "I do, but I thought it'd be nice to talk to you before everyone woke up and started to rush around."

"What do you wish to talk about?" Amaris asked quietly as she studied Amanda's attire further.

Amanda continued to look Amaris in the eye, despite the younger girls eyes wandering below her neckline. "Well," Amanda began, folding her arms across her chest subconsciously. "I thought it'd be nice to get to know Harry's cousin better." She smiled bashfully at Amaris.

Amanda in an instant found herself staring into the hollow green eyes which had moments before been observing her attire. After a few moments of silent staring Amaris nodded and spoke, "I understand."

A look of relief passed over Amanda's face, only for it to turn to mortification as Amaris continued.

"You wish to form a kinship with me to further your chances of sport with my cousin."

"That's not it at all!" Amanda protested her cheeks alight with a blush. "It's just that we haven't talked much at all and I'm interested in you."

A look of surprise passed over Amaris's face. "You are… interested in me?" she repeated quietly with evidence of disbelief in her voice.

"I am," Amanda answered honestly beginning to relax in the presence of the younger girl.

"I have no interest in sporting with you," Amaris murmured apologetically. "My body is currently not at the stage where such activities can be considered acceptable."

A look of confusion remained on Amanda's for a few moments before a mixture of understanding—and then horror appeared on her face. "A-amaris," Amanda began to ask, "What exactly _is_ 'sporting'? You and Harry have made a few references to it and I think I have the wrong Idea, would yo-"

"Explain it to you?" Amaris finished for Amanda in her small voice.

Amanda nodded hesitantly.

Soul blank eyes stared at Amanda with an expression of bemusement. "Sporting is… fuck," she said slowly, ignoring the mortified look on Amanda's face. "Sporting is the same as… fucking and as father referred to it 'a thing men and women do; Rutting, Boinking, shoving a penis into a woma—"

"Ok, I get it!" Amanda interrupted with a heavy blush on her face. "I don't want to 'sport' with you Amaris."

Amaris opened her mouth to speak.

"I don't want to sport Harry either," she said quickly.

Amaris closed her mouth and inclined her head.

An awkward silence settled in, though it seemed to only affect Amanda.

"Right," Amanda began uncomfortably. "I came down to offer some advice about Harry." She paused, but at Amaris's continued silence she continued. "It might have just been to early last time when you gave him a hug."

Amaris nodded her eyes alight with curiosity. "You assume that father will be more hospitable if approached at a time when he is not completely coherent," the younger girl concluded.

Amanda smiled and nodded. "He won't wake up for a few hours, and he might appreciate it if you're there when he wakes up."

Amaris nodded passively.

"I will take it into consideration, thank you for your suggestion."

"I'm going to go back to sleep for a bit," Amanda explained with a tired smile.

Amaris nodded her head, her eyes drifting away from the blonde haired girl. The sound of falling footsteps drifted to Amaris's ears as Amanda left the room. The mortals idea had merit, Amaris mused. Though it was not necessary, nor that it had a purpose, but Amaris hesitated to dismiss the thought.

Part of her yearned to feel her father's arms around her, holding her. His body was warmer than hers, but despite that it was comfortable unlike conventional heat. Fireplace crackled as if to acknowledge her thoughts.

To her surprise, before she had even finished deciding whether or not she would accept the mortal's advice she was standing up and staring towards the staircase for the male section of the Gryffindor house. Her footsteps fell silent in the room as she approached the staircase. Idly she reached out and brushed her fingers against the cold stone of the staircase. She had no worries about entering the wrong room. It was hard to miss her father's presence. Thought it was dormant née dead a bond existed between them as father and daughter, Intangible besides all but the smallest traces.

It was one of the reasons behind her conception, as her mother had educated her since she was capable of understanding spoken word. Those thoughts slipped away as her eyes came to rest upon the door of the fifth door from the bottom of the staircase. Her eyes flickered down to the doorknob and a twinge of distaste passed over her face. It was quickly squelched as she gripped the door handle and opened it.

A wave of semi cool air brushed over Amaris as she entered the room. The large room was dark, despite the sun rising outside; the windows seemed to be darkened out the only source of light came from behind her and it wasn't potent enough to spread more than a few meters into the room.

Amaris put it away to an act of mortal magic and idly drew a silver of the winter source from inside her. A mote of energy unfolded into existence upon her palm, bathing the room in a gentle blue glow. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of movement upon the closest bed near to her. The boy—Longbottom or some such.

Amaris couldn't help but snort at the name. it boggled her mind to think of some of the names that the mortals would allow themselves to be named. Her father's name was only slightly better. The thoughts slipped from her mind as a presence touched the edge of her senses. Amaris slowly walked towards the bed the bed opposite the entrance to the room. The wisp of energy in her hand flickered and flitted as it slowly died down until it was little more than a wisp of smoke.

Her father wasn't moving at all besides a slow breathing pattern. She had not concealed her presence; her expectations had been thrown off. She had expected her father to be awake the moment she touched the door. The fallen he had bonded with should have had no problems detecting her it was why she had used the source to shine some light on the room.

She idly made her way around from the end of the bed to the side. Her eyes lingered on the middle of the bed where her father was sprawled out with a single blanket covering him. Amaris had no idea how long she stood still staring down at her father's placid face. It must have been a long time, because before she knew it one of the other mortals in the room had begun to stir.

Winter magic ignited in the air and the boy who was nearing the waking world suddenly found his body racked with fatigue. His eyes remained closed even as the power of winter spread over him tinting his skin blue with the cold. All the while Amaris continued to stare down at her father. Her mind was ticking over reasons why the fallen had not awoken her father; the most prominent thought was that it did not consider her a threat. It did not sit well with her.

With a surprising amount of care Amaris eased herself onto the bed. Her lightweight barely registered on the bed compared to her father. For a few moments Amaris remained on top of the sheets before slipping under via the edges. The sheet was cool, though she could feel the lingering body warmth on the mattress of her father.

Amaris slipped closer to her father's side until her head came to rest upon the pillow his head laid upon. He still hadn't moved at all besides his breaths, Amaris mused. Whatever motives the Fallen had she was unable to comprehend them, much the same as the warmth that her father brought to her. The green eyed girl cuddled up to her father's side and wrapped her arm around his torso hugging him tightly. The sheets that covered both her and her father rested at her neck

Amaris started slightly as her father shifted beside her. For a moment the winter source teased her mind suggesting that she force him to remain as he was for as long as she wanted, but with a small amount of will she ignored the powers inclination.

"Is that you Meciel?" Harry mumbled groggily as he began to wake.

Amaris held her silence.

"Your fifth host was a crazy fucker," Harry mumbled under his breath as he began to stretch out. He paused half way through his stretch. "You're a bit smaller than usual Meciel," Harry muttered slowly as he opened his eyes and glanced down.

Harry stared for a few moments at the top of Amaris' head before he spoke. "I'm going to close my eyes and when I open them again you're not going to be there, understand?" he said slowly.

In response Amaris tightened her grip on Harry.

"Or not," Harry grunted as the small girl squeezed his midsection with a surprisingly strong grip.

"I do not wish to let go yet," Amaris stated calmly, her voice slightly muffled.

"Fine, just lighten up on the freaking death grip!" Harry grumbled through a slightly strained voice.

A wave of relief passed through him as Amaris relinquished her tight hold.

"Why are you in my bed?" Harry asked after a few seconds of silence.

"I wished to try and hug you again." Amaris murmured.

Harry stiffened.

"I will refrain from hugging you in the way which mother does," Amaris said after a few moments.

"Good to know," Harry answered uncomfortably. "Hug time is over, get off." He said awkwardly.

"This is incorrect," Amaris disagreed softly, "For it to be considered a proper hug you must put your arms around me and hug me back father."

"Right," Harry muttered sarcastically under his breath he went silent for a few moments, consulting with the fallen, Amaris assumed, before he spoke again, "I can't hug you if you're latched to my side," he pointed out irritably.

For a few moments Amaris internally debated over whether or not to let go but soon relinquished her hold on her father.

"Come here," Harry muttered uncomfortably as he rolled onto his side and hooked an arm around Amaris, just below her neck.

Amaris shifted towards Harry and wrapped her arms back around him, hugging him again. They remained like that before Amaris lent her head forwards, and Harry jerked back forcefully.

"Don't eve—" he began to say before Amaris cut over him in a quiet voice.

"I was not going to display affection to you in the way mother conveys."

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck ice over.

"Right," Harry muttered uncomfortably. "Well the other idiots in the room—"

"I am not finished with my hug," Amaris stated coolly as she moved forwards and wrapped her arms back around Harry's neck. She rested her lips beside his ear, and for a moment Harry wondered if she would repeat the first gesture, but instead she spoke.

"It was the Fallen was it not?" she whispered cold air into Harry's ear. "That told you to let me hug you?" Harry's silence told her more than what a yes or no could. "The mortal was incorrect," Amaris muttered under her breath.

For a few more moments Amaris remained as she was ignoring Harry's uncomfortable movements.

"Very well," Amaris murmured softly as she eased herself away from Harry. "Before I leave," she began to say as she slipped off of the bed. "I want…" she struggled to say the next part, "I want you to hug me of your own free will." A tremor of foreign emotion seemed to radiate from Amaris' voice as she began to take steps away from Harry's bed and towards the door.

Harry could only stare in a perplexed state as Amaris walked out of the room.

"The Mortal," Harry said slowly before his eyes narrowed in annoyance. "That Blonde…" he trailed off before a flicker of annoyance passed over his eyes. "Don't you start Meciel." He snapped angrily as he dropped back down on his bed. "Fuck them," Harry continued to grumble, "Missing out on a single class means shit."

"What he said," a muffled voice drowsily murmured from another part of the dorm room.

"Shut up," Harry snapped at the other occupants of the room.

He received no response.


	4. Taure: An Angel's Work is Never Done

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**Title:** An Angel's Work is Never Done

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**Author:** Taure

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Okay, I have no idea why I wrote this, but I felt like writing a DK Omake, so here it is. It's not really that good at all. Rather boring, in fact, until the very end, which is what I wanted to write about, but needed a way to get there: a way which turned out to be rather dull, IMO.

Oh well.

It was a rare occasion whenever I had something exciting to do.

He sent me to observe often, and sometimes even to deliver a message, but the will to act – this was an uncommon privilege. I couldn't remember the last time He allowed me to stretch my wings.

Well, that was a lie. I could remember: Sanya was such an odd man, he'd be hard to forget. I remembered everything, even unto the dawn of time itself. But it is a figure of speech. With the amount of observing I do, it's inevitable that I pick up some of the mortals' words.

Not that I'm complaining, of course. His Will is my will, and He holds all things in his hands. The Plan and all that.

But this day – this day I had been given a task. A simple one, certainly, but a task nonetheless. Keep the girl alive. Save the Cheerleader, save the world.

Wait, no. That's not right.

Don't worry, you'll get it in a couple of years.

My task was to keep the Carpenter girl alive. He smiled upon her, it seemed, and she had yet to play her part. Her time was yet to come, and so she was to be kept alive. The Almighty had commanded it, and so it would be.

And so I waited, deep within the rock of the Earth, invisible to mortal eyes. All around me high shelves reared upwards, extending into the darkness that concealed the cavernous ceiling of this place. Here was kept the prophesies of the people of Merlin. I could feel their power around me, stretching through time like a rope in a stream, delicate, as if a wave would wash them away. Prophesies had great power, but they were also very fragile. The moment you stopped believing in them, the thread that held them together broke. Well I knew the power of Faith, and of Faith misplaced.

A lesser being may have got impatient waiting here in this dark place, but His strength burned within me, and I did not falter in my duty. I would wait for the girl, here, where I knew she would be.

And so she came. She was not alone. Five others came with her, all of them of similar age, and yet all of them marked by fate. Great things were to happen around these children. I had to resist the urge to whisk them all of to safety there and then. Free will is a nuisance sometimes, but He knows what He's doing, I'm sure.

"Here we are," one of them - a boy - said quietly. He was the one called Neville. I saw him and felt pity, for I knew what had befallen his parents. As they talked amongst themselves, my eyes quickly found Amanda, and I went to stand behind her right shoulder, as is proper. It did not take long for the servants of Darkness to appear.

"I don't think that's for you to decide, mudblood," a cruel voice uttered from the shadows, materialising from under a veil. The speaker's voice was cultured and civilised, but I could feel the darkness tainting this man. His companions appeared behind him, each as stained as the next, their souls dirty from Dark magic and evil acts.

It would not be long until I was needed. I would let the girl try her best, and when she failed, I would intervene. I looked forlornly at the others. I had no instructions to save them. He knows what He is doing, though. They each have their own place, and it is not mine to question.

I felt a shiver of fear from the girl as she discovered that she had been tricked, and I rested my hand on her shoulder. It seemed to give her strength.

"Depuli Conluxi!" she shouted, raising her wand. A powerful – relatively speaking, of course – shield formed around the children and exploded outwards, throwing the Death Eaters off their feet and beginning a trail of destruction that was to destroy thousands of prophesies, preserved throughout the centuries meticulously by the wizards who worked here.

Oh well. I wasn't much a fan of them anyway.

Despite the girl's impressive magic, it was clear that her adversaries were not threatened by it, and the girl made the wise decision.

"Run!" she shouted, even as she turned to flee herself, and I kept close to her, able to keep up easily. She did not seem to notice when she separated from her friends, nor did she see until too late the dangerous witch who had caught up with her.

"Crucio!" the Dark witch screeched, and I readied myself to break the curse, its magic slimy and evil, but the girl surprised me again by dodging behind the next row of the corridor, returning fire, but to no avail.

It was rather frustrating really. If the girl would just lose her fight, I could save her and be gone from this place.

But the girl refused to give up. Her determination was admirable, even if her spells were beginning to get Darker. With a final great effort, the girl shot off a powerful silver curse and turned to run once more. We passed through the room of Revolving Doors, but my heart fell as she turned through a door that led her straight into another Death Eater.

Amanda had not seen him until too late.

"Crucio!" the wizard shouted, and Amanda was immediately hit with the curse, on the floor, injured, and writhing in pain. The time was now. I went forward to help her, but stopped a moment before touching her. Somewhere, deep down within me, something was telling me that it was not yet the time. The Lord works in mysterious ways.

I was not able to save her yet, but I could lend her strength. Gathering my will, I raised my hand and made a swiping motion through the air by her head, as if pulling something from the air. The curse weakened for a moment, and that moment was enough: she was able to get above the pain, to think and to react. But her reaction was what surprised me. With a cry of fury, the girl thrust her wand out, and that fury became cursed fire, spewing from her wand with a roar, as Dark a magic as any I had seen that night.

What was the daughter of a Knight, a child of light and goodness, doing in knowing such magic? I was so shocked that for a moment I was beyond action: I merely stood there, watching as the fire spread, evil shapes dancing within it. A particularly nasty looking raven tried to dive at me, but I brought a shining white wing in front of me subconsciously and swatted it out of the air like a fly.

Slowly I came back to myself. This changed nothing. He wanted her saved, and saved she would be. It was not my place to question.

I leant down to pick up her huddled form, ready to tear apart the curtain separating this world from the next, but once again I was thwarted in my task: this time not by the call of instinct, but by the wall behind me exploding inwards.

I responded as soon as I felt the Hellfire. My wings curled around me like a cocoon, and the debris from the explosion smashed upon them like waves upon hard rock. As the explosion cleared, I drew my wings far apart and raised my hand, ready to strike down the Fallen as I had beforetime began.

But then I paused. The Denarian had not seen me, nor felt my presence. It was the Potter boy, consort of demons and worse. Within him I could feel the Fallen, that ancient malevolent presence, wreathed in fire and hate. Meciel, I knew her to be, and I let my arm fall to my side, memories from long ago filling my thoughts.

She had not always been like this, filled with hate and rebellion. Once she had served Him as I do, graceful and powerful, the pride of all of heaven. Her beauty was matched by none, and her joy was so strong you could taste it in her aura.

But her joy became too much. She revelled in the moral men, and enjoyed his creation too much, taking it as her own. When the Morning Star fell into shadow, she was one of the first to follow. Sweet Meciel, now a being of flame and hatred and seduction.

I could not strike her.

Though that might have had more to do with the Sword on Potter's back, practically glowing with holy power. How he became I Knight I shall never know.

Her host had controlled the cursed flame – impressive, though not surprising – and had woken Amanda. They were apparently on good terms. I frowned. That explained things a bit more.

They quickly left the scene of the fight and I followed, more cautious now. The Fallen had not yet sensed my presence, but I would have to be vigilant.

We were not walking for long before I felt two more Fallen approaching, the weight of their twisted minds echoing through the Earth. Meciel left to deal with them. I stayed with Amanda as she joined up with three of her friends. They were mostly unharmed. Nevertheless, I intended to stay with them: the girl was not out of danger yet.

But once again, my intentions were interrupted. I could feel another calling on my being. I was required elsewhere in this building. Amanda was safe now – or at least as safe as she was going to be.

I had plenty of time. I stood with the young ones for a little longer, just in time to see more Death Eaters round the corner and begin the chase once more. But I longer was called to help. I let the children run, and watched as the Death Eaters sped after them. The children would be alright. The Lord would see to it.

Meanwhile, I had places to be. Turning back the way I came, I walked back, retracing my footsteps. The Potter boy was doing quite well against the Fallen, but I would expect no less of a Knight of the Cross. As I passed by, the sword lit up with particular radiance, just as the boy pulled it from its cane. Silver fire filled the air and Sammerial was burnt by its ever increasing holy fire.

I continued on my way. It was not to Meciel that I was being called. I reached the room of revolving doors and ambled out of the Department of Mysteries. I had ten minutes of mortal time before I was needed. I was heading towards the Atrium, where a strong presence was pulling my attention.

As I approached the Atrium, I knew I was in perfect time. The Lord provides, as always. I could hear the sounds of fighting, and could feel the power being thrown around in the room. These were no mere students of magic.

I looked around. Meciel was in a fight with _another_ Denarian, apparently having dispatched the previous two. Impressive, but not where my calling was. It was to the two wand wizards that my mind bent. They were both extraordinarily strong wizards, one as Dark as any man I had seen; the other shined with an inner light that reminded me slightly of heaven. But this man – Dumbledore – he had been tainted too, long ago. Those kinds of marks stay with you forever.

But it was to Dumbledore I was called.

The Dark one had raised his wand, and darkness spread throughout the room like a plague, infecting everything, casting shadow where it had no right to be. The darkness gathered around Voldemort, and I could feel it coming just as Dumbledore could: the darkness shot towards him, lethal and corroding. There were few spells that could stand against such darkness.

Apparently Dumbledore knew one of them. He moved quicker than I would have thought possible, and called out three words, their significance making my eyes widen. The Psalm of Ar'uck'shei.

Even as he said the words, Dumbledore turned ever so slightly towards me and looked me straight in the eye. He had seen me. Time seemed to slow, and I knew why I was here, why I had been called to this place. It was to answer the Psalm.

Still looking into Dumbledore's eyes, I called up my power, pure holy strength, brought forth by my will and those three holy words, and lent it to his. The effects were instantaneous. A golden light flooded the Atrium, and an overbearing sense of strength emanated from Dumbledore. The power of an Archangel is nothing to be sniffed at.

Voldemort's spell, a moment ago so powerful, never stood a chance. The Psalm, powered by both Dumbledore's power and mine own, ripped the darkness to pieces, shredding it as only light and can pierce darkness.

With the final word of the Psalm, the golden power shot towards Voldemort, and though he tried to shield himself in black shadow it might as well have been paper: the holy light tore that to pieces too, and Voldemort was sent flying across the wide hall.

That he was not defeated was a testament to his strength.

Still looking at me, Dumbledore made a small nod of his head and turned back to his foe, staring him down with a Faith in himself that only gave him more power.

I smiled; my time here was over. I had helped the girl, though I hadn't needed to save her, and I had been in the right place at the right time to fight against the Darkness.

It had been my most exciting day in almost a hundred years.


	5. Surarrin: Faeking Hell

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**Title: **Fae-king Hell

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**Author: **Surarrin

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**NOTE: **This chapter, although incomplete, trails off at a rather...disturbing note. The second half is quite explicit in certain areas, and may or may not breach 's guidelines. I'm keeping it as it is so that it remains unedited on my part, so you'll get what's there. Just know that it's Cessbulby and Harry in a rather...delicate...situation.

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Harry let out a mild sigh as he finished tracing the final layer of the summoning circle. He had to admit, the Ugly creatures –Apparently elfs, were quite generous in giving him some space and unlimited access to the food. He hadn't thought that Dumbledore would have had it in him to keep an entire race, as slaves, let alone brainwash them into serving him loyally.

_'They are House elves, beloved,' _Meciel explained in his mind, _'The wizards enslaved them hundreds of years ago-'_

"Thanks for the history lesson Meciel but I still need to make sure everything is fine," Harry interrupted Meciel and refocused on the circle.

In his mind a twinge told him that Meciel was annoyed.

_"Could it be that you actually care for Cessbulby?" _Meciel mused to herself.

"She's cute," Harry defended himself, before scowling lightly, "And she could be in trouble because of me," he added on.

Harry shook his head lightly and focused on the circle. Inside there was a plate filled with some fruits and yogurt, enough to tempt Cessbulby, and to show that it was him incase she was feeling particularly, if she was skittish. But knowing Maeve, she probably was completely unaware of the peril she was possibly in.

He reached down to the line, preparing to impart the magic needed along with the Faeries name. The first syllable was on his lips and then a burst of fire forced him back, the fire literally scorched the air around him. Harry fell backwards and grimaced, his wand was already half way into a curse before his eyes registered what was in front of him.

In mid air, a golden bird hovered, wisps of fire streaming off it's feathers. A flap of it's wings later and the fire was dispersed. It's Black eyes glared down at Harry accusingly. It's beak opened and a harmonic melody poured out. Harry felt a terror rise up in his chest, before Meciel quickly clamped down on it.

Harry let out a shudding breath, before he drew himself together and glared at the High Sidhe of Summer.

"What the hell did you do that for, you stupid bird?" Harry demanded to know angrily.

Fawkes glared down at Harry accusingly, another flap of it's wings saw a wave of intense heat clash against the ground beneath it, coincidentally igniting the food and destroying the lines formed by salt. Harry stared at the golden creature incredulously.

"You'll let the True-Wizard summon a demon, but you won't let me summon a freaking Pixie?" Harry demanded to know angrily, "And I thought those god damn fish people were retarded, but you take the cake you birdbrain-" Harry's rant was cut off as a flash of fire erupted from the Summer Fay. No heat came from the flames, as far as Harry could feel. Beyond the flames, Harry could see the bird's body begin to morph. In mere seconds it had gone from avian to humanoid.

The flames faded away to reveal a woman, a woman that could have possibly put Maeve to shame. Where the woman's eyes should have been were gleaming black orbs, her hair was a mixture of reds, oranges, and yellows. It varied in length as far as Harry could see, it gave her a natural, if not slightly imposing, look.

"Birdbrain," the woman mused out loud as she stared down at Harry. Her voice was soft, melodic, enchanting, "You are a very uncreative boy, aren't you, little Denarian?"

Harry sat stunned.

"I'll keep my creativity for killing people with, thanks," Harry slowly managed to shake himself out of his daze.

Fawkes looked down at Harry in disdain, her nigh perfect features tinged with distaste, "Quite."

Harry's and Meciel's minds were working furiously as they, through the formers eyes, observed the Summer Sidhe, "Why did you interrupt the summoning ritual?" Harry repeated.

"I do not have to explain myself to you, little boy," her voice had all the warmth of an iceberg, she took on a thoughtful disposition, "But if you must know, it is because I do not tolerate such actions from guests without my permission."

"And the True-wizard did?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"That is correct," Fawkes stared down at Harry, interest evident in her depthless black eyes, " Why were you attempting to summon a Pixie?"

"You don't need to know that," Harry stated flatly as he stood up and ran his wand over his clothes, removing the creases and removing the little bits of food that had stuck on to it.

An inhuman screech filled the Kitchen, Harry snapped his wand to the source, only to see a fast moving blur. It zoomed around him, faster than he could see. The floor it pasted over seemed to almost sparkle. Harry stared in confusion as the blur slowed down into a house elf, a wheezing house elf, but a house elf no less.

"Hizzie is sorry for not cleaning earlier," the House elf all but cried out, "Hizzie will never leave his cleanings half done to cook ever again!" the brownish green creature promised, before scampering back out of Harry's sight.

"Fascinating creatures, are they not?" Harry snapped his head back up, and his eyes found Fawkes staring at him intensely, or she was, as far as he could tell, "They are never happy unless they are cleaning others filth up. Misery fills them unless they have a will to act upon." The Sidhe paused and began to step closer to Harry.

The Denarian's grip tightened on his wand, inside his mind Meciel was anxious, _"Do not take her bait, beloved," _Meciel's voice whispered through Harry's mind. The almost indecent Summer Fay paused, and tilted her head to the side.

"Do not worry, Fallen, I do not seek quarrel with your host," the woman's voice was melodic again, Harry could feel his nerves calming.

"She is using glamour on you, I cannot dispel it all myself, it is too strong!" Meciel hissed within Harry's mind. But he couldn't bring himself to worry over it.

"I merely was helping set your nerves at ease," Fawkes murmured soothingly as she reached up and gently traced her finger down Harry's cheek. He had enough sense left to pull away from the touch. The gentle warmth lingered.

"Back off, or for once in the history of the world there will be a special order of Fried chicken on the menu," Harry snapped and leveled his wand with Fawkes face.

A light smile lit up on the woman's lips, and the foreign feelings of tranquility drained away, leaving Harry's nerves standing on end.

"Do test your skills, if you so please, but be warned, I will not be held back by the laws of hospitality."

"Do not!" Meciel's voice thundered within Harry's mind, shaking him from the stupor he had fallen into, he quickly dismissed the first incantations that were on his lips, for a bone igniting curse.

"I know, I know," Harry snapped as he lowered his wand and placed it in his pocket, out of his immediate reach. He glared at the amused Fawkes, "I hate you," Harry stated calmly, glaring up into Sidhe's eyes.

"Yes," she smiled, "You do." Her smile devolved into a frown.

"Would you answer a curiosity of mine?"

"No," Harry said flatly, "Leave."

"Answer me this, and I shall allow you to call the lowly Sidhe you sought to summon, into my dwelling."

Harry snorted, "What's the hidden catch?"

The beautiful Sidhe smiled serenely, "There is no catch, answer me my curiosity, and I shall grant your winterling safe passage."

Harry debated internally for a few moments, before receiving the confirmation from Meciel, "Alright, shoot."

The expectant smile on Fawkes lips faded, "Why did you choose the Winter Lady as the source of power you drew upon?"

Harry blinked.

"Because she is the only Sidhe I know that could have possibly helped me kill the Drakon." Harry stated it as if it were obvious.

A discontent frown settled on Fawkes visage, "I was watching from the castle, waiting for you to request general aid, I was disappointed that you chose to disregard my protections on this place and summon the Heir to Winter."

A pair of emerald eyes stared up into black orbs.

"You thought I was going to get you to help me?" Harry couldn't help himself, he laughed.

Fawkes remained emotionless, waiting for Harry's amusement to subside.

"And what were you expecting as payment? I don't think I'd have fancied ending up like your pet human."

"You bartered with a life that was not your own, nor even birthed into existence," the Sidhe's voice was mildly accusing, "Compared to such a heinous crime the price I would have requested is paltry." She paused again, "Despite your overzealous and reckless actions, I managed to procure something of value in the end, along with an amusing evening entertainment."

All around Harry and Fawkes, glasses and plates exploded violently, sending shards of broken porcelain and glass flying around the room. Fawkes remained still, passive despite more than a few pieces flying precariously close to her. Harry himself didn't even care to notice the bit's and pieces that dug into his exposed skin.

"Oh yes," Fawkes murmured, tilting her head upwards in a satisfied manner, "I watched you as you fumbled your way through your time with the Winter Lady, quite remarkable though, I must admit, for one so inexperienced, and young, I had not expected you to last as long as you did."

A thin red line blossomed on the Sidhe woman's cheek. She daintily reached up and dabbed her finger tip against it. As she drew her finger down to her lips, Harry couldn't help but notice that the red had smudged. The bottom of his stomach seemed to vanish as the Summer Fay's tongue slowly slid out of her mouth and licked her digit.

"Oh my, what have we done," she murmured, her eyes staring amusedly across at Harry, "It seems," she mused, " That you have drawn my blood."

'Oh shit' was the only phrase that was running through Harry's mind, and it was on repeat, his mouth hung opening shock, his eyes fared little better.

"It seems that it was an accident," Fawkes remarked casually, Harry watched as the blood on her cheek faded away.

"It was," Harry quickly agreed, "I didn't me-"

"But of course, I can not be certain, you did after all draw your wand on me, moments ago in preparation to strike me," she interrupted, her voice had taken on a 'worried' tone.

"I am generous of course, no matter what your intentions were I will let it go without punishment," Fawkes smile was relieving. Harry felt like taking a breath of relief.

'She isn't finished.' Meciel whispered into Harry's mind, her voice bitter, angry. Harry could tell that the anger was directed solely at him.

"I'm afraid that I cannot simply let it go, however," the Sidhe's smile turned apologetic, but it held a predatory glimmer, "You of course agree, that for such a generous leeway that it deserves something in return."

Harry winced.

Fawkes smile grew wider, showing off her perfect white teeth.

"We shall however leave it till a later date to decide what we both feel fit is payment."

"I hate you," Harry stated as honestly as he could.

"Than I shall take my leave," with a satisfied smile, Fawkes bowed down and swept her arm outwards. She vanished in a twirl of fire, leaving Harry standing by himself in the middle of the kitchen, all of the house elves had taken refuge, and were slowly going back to work. Harry noticed that more than a few of them were nursing small wounds, but he could not bring himself to care.

"You need to take greater care in your behaviour," Harry winced as Meciel's voice hissed angrily in his mind. Harry couldn't bring himself to feel indignant about it, he felt the same way.

His eyes fell upon the summoning circle and he blinked. The food inside it, and the circle had been returned to the state they had been in prior to the Summer Sidhe's entry.

"Let's get this over with," Harry sighed tiredly as he kneeled down in front of the summoning circle and sent out the call for his Winter Sidhe 'Spy'. He didn't feel like talking to anymore Sidhe, but he had taken a fall, and it was the only thing he had come out with.

The glow grew brighter and brighter until a flash of red and blue burst forward, and a female faery appeared. She had silver dragonfly's wings sprouting from her back, flapping quickly as she hovered over the wooden floor. Her body was tiny, no bigger than six inches, but distinctly humanoid and beautiful. A silver nimbus of ambient light surrounded her, highlighting her fae charms as her shaggy, silken little mane of pinkish-red hair swayed on the power of her own flapping wings. Her eyes, a bright blue set of orbs, they were alight with excitement.

"Harry!" the creatures voice was childish, but ethereal.

"Cess," Harry lifted up a hand and waved to the small faery.

"I know what you did with Maeevvvee!" she sung out in a sing-along voice.

"Apparently everyone does," Harry mumbled to himself, he blinked in surprise, "You usually demand we get straight to the food," he remarked.

"Something's are more important than food," Cessbulby's face was serious as she spoke, a drastic change from how she usually behaved, "We couldn't even watch as you and Maeve had sport." Her face became vicious, "Did you have fun?" her voice was excitable.

Without warning, Cessbulby's eyes widened, and ever so slowly, she turned her head around. Harry's eyes followed the little fays line of sight, until they came to rest upon an oblivious house elf. Harry stared in mild horror as he watched the short creature sweep away the lines of the summoning circle into a dustpan.

As slowly as she had looked away, Cessbulby turned her head back towards Harry. The Denarian found his eyes drawn to the small Sidhe's face, where her eyes were widened and her mouth was wide with a grin. A devilish cackle flew from her lips as Cessbulby flew out of the summoning circle.

Harry could only rest his head on his hands as the sounds of the ugly Wizarding servants panicking, filled the room. Harry slowly stood up and turned around to where most of the commotion was coming from, he almost flinched backwards as his eyes met those of Cessbulby, who was floating less than five inches away from his face.

"I'm going to have lots of fun, yup yup!" An insane giggle flew from Cessbulby's mouth as she zoomed out of Harry's sight.

"Ohhh, what's this?" the pink haired Sidhe murmured in wonderment from below his ear. Harry made to move, only to wince and hiss in pain as a stinging sensation registered on his neck.

"Ohhh," Cessbulby moaned into his cheek, "You taste so good." Harry grimaced as the feeling of something worming into his flesh became apparent from where Cessbulby had bitten him.

"That's enough, Cessbulby," Harry snapped as he reached up to remove the small fay, only to have his hand knocked away by the surprisingly forceful faery. Harry was all but past his patient limit for the day, "Stop it now or I'm going to burn your wings off!" Harry snarled as he reached for his wand.

He faltered mid way as the licking sensation stopped, only to franticly reach for his wand as a flutter of cold ran by his hand and slipped into his clothing. His fingers grasped nothing.

"Careless Harry," Cessbulby's voice whispered tauntingly into Harry's ear. He quickly snapped his head around and reached up, his fingers once again grasped air, "Careful, you might hurt me!" Cessbulby said in a sing along voice.

"Let's make a new deal!" Cessbulby's excited voice demanded from above Harry, causing him to look up, above his head.

Cessbulby was floating languidly in the air, his wand slung over her shoulder like a gigantic sword. Her large cobalt blue, soulless eyes stared down at Harry amusedly, she flickered out of reach the moment Harry moved to snatch his wand back.

_'Meciel, can you help me get my wand back?' _Harry asked the Fallen within his mind, only to frown as silence met his question, he focused on the feelings that suggested Meciel's presence, but found nothing, except a dead end.

_"Let this be a lesson to you, beloved," _Meciel's voice whispered into his mind, before falling silent.

Harry was livid.

"Give it back now Cessbulby!" he growled angrily, "If you don't give it back I'm going to break your legs!" Harry threatened.

Cessbulby blinked.

"Oh, you want to hurt me?" her voice was coated in mock sadness, "I just want to make a new deal with you Harry, the old deals are so boring!" she exclaimed, gesturing with her arms wildly. Too wildly. Harry almost swore as his wand flew free of Cessbulby's grasp. He lunged for it, only to fall short as Cessbulby snatched it out of the air once again and held it to her body. Her wings fluttered wildly and propelled her away from Harry.

"Alright," Harry relented, exasperatedly, "What kind of deal do you want to make?"

He steadfast ignored the urge to wrap his hands around the faerie's body and crush the ectoplasm shell she had created for herself.

"I get to have fun from now on, instead of just getting some paltry sacrifice, in return for the gossip you get usually!" she stated haughtily, she paused and glanced at the Holly wand she held in her hands, before grinning viciously at Harry, "Or else I'll give this to Maeve!"

"What kind of fun?" Harry asked, his interest peaked, he didn't care much if a few people ended up with a few less limbs, unless Cessbulby decided that she wanted to start a collection- Then things could get out of hand.

"The only kind!" Cessbulby exclaimed, shocked, "There is only one kind of fun!" she gestured with the wand again, but it seemed her grip had increased, it didn't look for a moment that she was going to drop it.

"A bit more specific," Harry demanded, his mind racing through possible ways to get his wand back.

"Fun with flesh!" she all but cackled as she spun in midair, "Like we did with the summer faery," she paused thoughtfully, "Did I tell you about the faery we found?" Cessbulby was beginning to become excited.

"Yes, yes," Harry snapped absently, "You tore it's wings off."

Cessbulby blinked and nodded slowly, a thoughtful look passing over her face.

"Alright," Harry agreed, albeit a tad hesitantly, "We have a deal, as long as you give me my wand back."

Cessbulby cackled evilly, or so Harry assumed she tried to do, all she managed was a cute tinkle of laughter. She threw his wand back at him haphazardly and began zooming around Harry again. As Harry snatched his wand out of the air he had to stop himself from sending a flash fire curse at the Winter Faery.

"What did you want to know?" Cessbulby asked as she landed on Harry's shoulder, her hands lightly caressing his cheek, where she had bitten before.

"I was checking to see if you were alright," Harry held himself back from snarling, it wouldn't do to egg on the little Fay.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Cessbulby asked as her finger's tipped into the blooded coated wound on Harry's cheek.

Harry leaned away from Cessbulby's touch, before turning his head toward her. Cessbulby sat on his shoulder, her hands coated in red. She idly licked her fingers, which were dripping with blood, his blood. He noticed a slight shiver that ran through her every time her tongue touched her fingers, "It doesn't matter," he dismissed her question. He already had his answer.

"Oh," Cessbulby seemed disappointed, "Aren't you gonna tell me?" Her fingers idly traced over his cheek.

"It was just something Maeve said to me," Harry reached up to his cheek and tenderly touched it, a wince came a moment later, along with a minor healing spell. The minor Sidhe let out a whine of disappointment.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw a familiar ugly little creature. It was looking at him with frightened eyes.

"Cess," Harry said calmly as he continued to stare across at the brown skinned creature the faery let out a small 'hn'. "You wanted to have...flesh fun, right?" he lifted his hand up and pointed towards the frightened house elf, "Go have fun," Harry bared his teeth in a vicious smirk.

"No," Cessbulby refused.

Harry blinked in surprise and transferred his gaze back to the small faery, "It is what you made a deal for, isn't it? Go and tear off it's legs or something." He received a small shake of the pink haired fay.

"We made a deal for Fun," she made a disgusted face, "I don't want to play sport with that yucky thing, it's ug-"

"Excuse me?" Harry demanded, his eyes narrowed, "We made a deal for 'Fun with Flesh' meaning you go and torture something and I give you the go ahead for it, there was no mention of sporting- I don't even know how you can even have sex considering how small you are."

Cessbulby stared at Harry, her face a mixture of confusion and indignation.

"You agreed to have fun with me," she accused softly, her arms folding across her chest, pushing up her ample, in proportion to her size, bust, "You said you'd let me have fun, we had a deal!" her eyes flashed ominously.

"No, I made a deal with you to let you do things like you did to that Summer Faery!" Harry made pulling gestures with his hands, "Like pull it's wings off- Torture stuff!" Harry blinked, his mind catching up to the situation finally.

"Cessbulby, did you rape the summer Faery?"

A devilish cackle flew from Cessbulby's lips.

"Yes, yes! We had fun with her! She made such lovely sounds," Cessbulby trailed off wistfully.

Harry stared at the bloodthirsty creature with a new found apprehension. There were certain depths even he refused to go to, rape was one of them. To think the small, cute, even lovely, faery would go as far. Harry's thoughts trailed off. By the time he focused on the situation again, Cessbulby had turned away from him, facing away from her seat upon his shoulders. The ever present glow that surrounded the vicious Winter faery had faded lightly.

"I know I'm nothing compared to Maeve," Cessbulby's normally excitable voice was soft, almost as fragile as the Fay's wings looked, "But I would try my best to make you feel good as well," her voice trailed off into a whisper.

"Hey," Harry said, his voice soft, almost pleasant, he reached up and gently brushed the back of the Pink haired pixies head with his finger, prompting her to look back, "As I told Maeve, I like you a lot more than I like her," it wasn't a lie, he didn't like Maeve at all aside from the fact she was any man's wet dream.

"Promise?" her voice was still soft, she looked so fragile that-

"Drop the act," Harry said flatly.

A scowl appeared on Cessbulby's face, before it broke into a lecherous grin. A cackle flew from the Winter Fay's lips, "I almost had you!" she did a little dance on Harry's shoulder. Harry felt like palming his face.

"Alright, this is over, I need to go and learn how to shoot lasers out of my eyes or something useful, Meciel said she'd help me learn how to turn people's bone marrow into tapeworms," Harry said dismissively as he prepared to stand up.

"Over?" Cessbulby echoed confusedly, "But I haven't had my fun yet," she reached up to Harry's cheek and poked him, "You wouldn't be trying to skip out on our deal are you?" her voice held an amused quality to it.

Harry reached up to his shoulder and batted the Winter Fay off, ignoring the indignant shout she gave, "Firstly, I thought you meant that you wanted to torture someone, secondly, I don't even know how you could manage that, and finally, I don't have any intention of finding out."

Harry slashed his wand towards the House elf that had destroyed the summoning circles binding. He wordlessly cast crushing curse at the ugly creature. He felt an immense satisfaction as the terrified creature's body all but crumpled under the force of the curse. A splash of silver motes appeared in his vision, following by a stream of ambient energy. Harry managed to catch sight of the summoned faery as she passed by his face again.

"Do it again!" she cackled, clapping her tiny hands together, "Ugly thing go Squish!"

Harry's eyes flashed expectantly, he gave Cessbulby a broad grin, "Sure, I'll do it again, if you'll do something for me."

Cessbulby halted as she went for another pass around him. Her eyes held suspicion as she observed Harry, "No, you just want to break the deal!" she hissed with contempt.

The green eyed Denarian shrugged, "I could just ignore you, it's not like you have enough magic power to hurt me, and even if you did, you can't use magic against me without me letting you." He paused for a moment, thinking it over, "and if you could, you would have already tried to do so."

"I don't want to hurt you," Cessbulby murmured with a pout upon her lips. She flew up to Harry's face, no more than a few centimetres away.

Harry stared across the short distance into the electric blue of her eyes, he didn't even twitch as she reached forwards and placed her hands on his cheeks, "Never hurt you," she murmured as she leaned forwards and gently nuzzled her cheek against his nose, "But if I could force you I would," she added on, before pausing and frowning, "Not allowed to force you," she began to sulk and held tighter onto Harry's face.

Harry wrinkled his nose as the soft flutter of Cessbulby's wings began to irritate his nose. AS he began to reach up to tug the amorous faery off his face a thought occurred to him.

"What do you mean by not allowed?" Harry was mildly curious.

"Not allowed to force mortals," she murmured as her hands gently caressed Harry's face, an act which made him uncomfortable, the soft feel, and her sharp quality of her fingers was foreign.

Harry leant backwards, trying to separate the fay's hands from him, "Do you mean it's against the High Sidhe's rules?" Cessbulby fluttered forwards, ignoring the attempt to stop her, she shook her head as she moved her hands lower, onto his lips.

"Can't do it," she licked her lips and traced her fingers over Harry's lips, "If we try then these bodies go boom!" she giggled to herself, "I've heard it hurts," she added on in an after thought.

Harry's mind churned over the newly acquired information. Meciel hadn't been very forthcoming with information about the Sidhe. Ever since his 'crush' as she called it, on Maeve became apparent, she had been adamant about him staying away from them, it was frustrating.

A small wince escaped him as a sharp pain stabbed at his bottom lip, "What are you," Harry began to say, before his eyes met the reflection of one of the many pots and pans hanging around the kitchen. His question trailed off into nothingness as he stared at the reflection of Cessbulby biting on his lower lip.

He wasn't sure if biting was the proper word, it looked like a mixture of biting, licking and nuzzling. He couldn't help but notice a chill spreading from the wound, one which he could almost indirectly associate with the Winter Court's power. He quickly reached up and pulled the pink haired faery away from his lips.

"I thought you said you couldn't force?" Harry demanded to know, his cheeks slightly flushed.

Cessbulby smiled triumphantly as she slipped out of Harry's hand. Her small tongue ran over her lips, moistening them for a second, before they glazed over with a thin sheen of ice, "No, no, can't force," she murmured softly, floating forwards again, her eyes flickered up from Harry's lips, where she had been focusing, to his eyes, and back again, "But can tempt," she added on slyly.

"You're tempting my wand," snapped Harry, his voice lower than he had intended.

Cessbulby's eyes lit up with excitement, a hungry gleam lingered in them as they flickered down lower.

"That wasn't code!" his grip on his phoenix feathered wand tightened.

"I'm tired," the pink haired Fay stated suddenly, all glimmers of playfulness and excitement gone. It put Harry on guard, "Give me what I want or else." Her voice held a low tremor to it, as if she was bottling in her emotions, considering the sudden change, Harry assumed that she was.

"Or else what?" Harry mocked, "You'll whine to Maeve?"

Cessbulby's eyes flashed in shock, before a sly, devious smirk formed on her lips. Harry felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. The faery cackled gleefully, clapping her hands together, "Yes, yes! I WILL tell Maeve, I will trade with Maeve!"

"Let's not be too hasty," Harry stammered, "We can still work things out, Is there anything else you want?"

"No," Cessbulby hissed, flying up into Harry's face again the ambient silver light around her had darkened, "Give me what I want or I will give you to Maeve!" she slashed her hand outwards, before her face clouded with doubt, "No... I should give you to Maeve," the low Sidhe nodded to herself, her eyes alight with wonderment, "She will reward me muchly,"

Cessbulby's eyes literally glowed with excitement, all the while dread continued to fill Harry up, he was relieved to hear Meciel's voice echo in his mind, before he comprehended what she had said.

"You'd had best go along with her demands, beloved," Meciel's voice held an amused quality to it, "If you allow Maeve to get her claws any further into you, I will not be pleased."

Harry felt a shiver travel through his body.

"Alright," he relented, his normally sarcasm filled voice cowed, "What do you want me to do?"

Cessbulby blinked, surprised, "Harry will have fun now?"

A scowl surfaced on Harry's countenance, "I don't know about me having fun, but I'm sure you can manage," Cessbulby's bright smile flickered for a moment with confusion, before she comprehended what had been said.

"Yesss, Cessbulby will have much fun," she was getting even more excited, Harry noticed, she flew down to his hand and gripped his sleeve's end, tugging against it, "Come, we shall find a good place," she spared the House elves a disgusted glance, "With none of these filthy creatures to ruin our fun."

Less then a minute later, Harry found himself out of the kitchens, in an empty and dust ridden classroom.

"This is good, it is perfect!" Cessbulby exclaimed in her high pitched voice as she flew around the room, observing it from every angle. She stopped in the middle of the room and clapped her hands together, before thrusting them diagonally downwards. The chairs and tables exploded into action as a gust of chilly air hit Harry, the backlash of the winter energy Cessbulby had used, Harry realised as he watched the classroom objects pile at either side of the room.

"Do you know anyway to get a faery to orgasm quickly, without, actually touching them, like a spell?" Harry mentally asked as he watched Cessbulby stare down at the ground critically.

"No beloved, you will have to do this task by hand,"

A moment of silent occurred in his mind.

"Or perhaps not by hand, depending on how enthusiastic she will be."

Harry ignored Cessbulby as she tore part of his shirt off of him, instead he focused on Meciel's taunt, "Don't joke around, there is no way she coul-" Harry's thought pattern faltered as something pushed into the back of his legs, and forced him down onto his knees, in front of where the Winter Fay had created a makeshift bed.

Harry let a small wince escape him. He had slain a dragon, fought off demons, he had fought the hosts of fallen angels and come out on top, and he shouldn't have had to submit to the desires of a small faery. A dull throbbing in his mind, closely tied in with the overlaying feeling of his magic told him otherwise.

Harry's eyes met Cessbulby's.

She had laid down upon the torn scraps of his shirt and reclined backwards, she held herself up on her elbows. Her wings had been tucked up against her back. She had a sly smile upon her lips as she watched Harry, her tongue flickered over her lips, glazing them over, before she moved one of her arms out from under her and pressed it against the front of her white summers dress, cupping one of her breasts.

Cessbulby gave Harry a cheeky grin as she flexed her fingers inwards, which broke out into a pouty look of pleasure as she groped herself. Harry found that he couldn't look away as the small faery continued to knead her breast. After an amount of time he managed to tear his eyes away from the sight, and focus on the floor next to the pink haired Fay. The small mewing sounds Cessbulby made seemed to pick up in frequency and intensity, prompting Harry to look back.

His eyes however were drawn to the small creatures. The cobalt blue of Cessbulby's eyes were clouded over with arousal, they were glassy, as if she was high. Her lips were parted in a perpetual moan. Harry swallowed as his eyes drifted downwards, once again meeting the sight of her bosom and hand. The pixie's ministrations had picked up in intensity, her fingers dug into her dress, crumpling it around her breast as she rolled it within her hand.

Cessbulby seemed to take immense satisfaction in being watched, she made sounds of protest every time Harry's eyes left her, "Harry," her voice whined softly, the next time Harry looked away, "You promised," her voice was husky, the usually high pitch was lowered an octave or two.

"Right," Harry's voice was slightly strained, he watched, mesmerised as Cessbulby's hand finally left her breast, it slowly trailed lower, over her stomach, past her hips, to the hem of her dress. She latched it and tugged it up, revealing her smooth, pale, almost white, thighs. She hitched the dress up until its lower half rested crumpled around her waist.

Harry's eyes were drawn down, just below where her dress covered. A pair of blue laced panties were the only thin that held the small amount of decency the pixie retained, and even then, there was a small patch of iced over material, the thin, small triangle of material fit to Cessbulby's contours with agonising precision. Yet again, it drew Harry's mind to the obvious dilemma, which the Pixie couldn't understand; there was no way any body part of Harry's would be able to fit.

Harry glanced down to his pinky. Even it was over sized compared to the pint sized sex crazed fay.

"Yess," said Winter Faery hissed out, her eyes following the Path of Harry's gaze, "Touch Cessbulby, touch Cessbulby now,"

"It's too big," Harry stated flatly, ignoring the growing urge to attempt said impossibility.

"Touch now!" she screeched out, pressing her small hand against her iced over snatch, her screech faded out into a purr as Harry's finger touched against the bare flesh of her lower thigh, "Higher," the pixie demanded, she arched her backand let out a deeper purr as Harry complied, brushing his finger up against the growing patch of ice on her panties.

The ice crystals broke away at his slightest touch, Harry went to pull his finger away, only to wince lightly as Cessbulby's hand clutched his finger. Her fingers had become elongated, sharper, they easily pierced his finger, drawing blood, "Right there," she murmured lowly as she pressed Harry's sole finger against the crease in her panties.

Harry felt at a loss for what to do as the Pixie grinded his finger against her panty clad snatch. Cessbulby's purrs grew in intensity, along with the force she exerted on his finger. The moment he had stopped pulling away she had stopped digging her fingers into his. Harry finally tore his eyes away from her snatch and refocused on her eyes. As before, they were flickering, as if she were in the middle of a seizure, her eyes however were focused on his face. A small smile of pleasure was etched upon her lips, it widened slightly as his eyes met hers.

She looked like a Barbie doll, Harry mused, albeit, a slutty, otherworldly, faery of a Barbie doll, but a barbie doll no less. It was obvious to Harry that the only thing Cessbulby had in common with the plastic doll was their size. The soft counter pressure against his finger told him that much. Not to mention the small slit he felt at the end of his finger tip told him that they were not anatomically identical. An irritated growl escaped the small Fay, and the next moment Harry felt the tight pressure of her hand leave his finger, Harry's eyes switched back down to Cessbulby's crotch just in time to see her shred the thin material of her underwear.

"Much better," the small creature murmured huskily as her fingers wrapped around Harry's finger.

Harry however wasn't paying attention to her hand. His eyes were focused on the thin slit that had been revealed the moment Cessbulby had discarded the remnants of material that had made up her underwear….


	6. Nuhuh: For the Evil of Mothers

**For the Evil of Mothers**

* * *

The stone flagstones of the floor looked slick in the starlight streaming lazily through the high windows of the healing ward. In the middle of the large hall stood one bed, all other things had been cleared, moved away from places they had rested for centuries. But to the eyes of the Headmaster there were shadows of his own childhood years spent in and out of this ward, then of his colleagues and his pupils; memories of surprising joyful moments when a dear one had given birth in this very ward and many more memories of those who drew their last breath in here.

So evocative was this room and the impressions left upon it that he had asked his staff to make use of it less and less. But now after a decade what had become the place of storing was once again a place of healing, for tonight he needed the many impressions left in this room, especially that of the joy of one who gave birth in here.

The Headmaster swept the simple barren ward with his aged eyes and saw things, saw possibilities only one mired in the true secrets of magic could see. And he hoped that it would be enough, that the powers he was about to disturb and call would do as he meant them to. With a thought of his the heavy doors of the ward shut behind him. The crack in them where they split to open sealed up so that instead of a door there was a wooden wall. For the briefest of moments on every surface in the ward a dull light shone revealing patterns and runes; and then they were gone, leaving the unimpressive stone walls and floor behind.

The man they called Grand Sorcerer, in an age that had forgotten the true meaning of the title and thought it only an honorific, began casting such magic that only one of his power knew to call. Tonight he stood in the ward barefoot with only a simple wheat colored robe covering him, nothing adorned the common cloth and it hung off of him like a garb of some pilgrim come to his sacrosanct ground. He walked towards the occupied single bed in the middle of the floor in a curving path. Words in ripples heaved from the floor and rushed out in waves of stone noiselessly before the path of his bare feet and on the heels of the whispers from his mouth.

Ten times he circuited the walls and languages ancient and forgotten crested on the floor in confusing twisting scripts as if they had been embossed on the stone as long as the age of the castle. Around his feet, with the soft falling and rising tone of his whispered bewitchment the words too sank and rose. They sped away changing the landscape with the end of each spell and soon he stood by the side of the boy lying on the singular bed in a sea of carved and raised magic, set in stone.

He shut his eyes and suddenly the heaving stone froze, the magic set where he had brought it, to draw evil and hold it…and infect it with such things that he had planned. With closed eyes he turned his head this way and that in a slow measured manner, searching for that one impression that he wanted, that one moment of unparalleled happiness that had dug itself in the time of this ward.

Then he found it and smiled in relief and he hoped it would be enough to trigger the delicate and subtle magic he was about to create for the first time. The plight of his charge and through him the fate of his people never rested in such a unique balance, fraught with forces so volatile that they had never been seen before. But he was prepared to cast these magicks of his making that would forever be a secret.

Would he be forgiven if he succeeded? Would it matter if he failed?

The questions had plagued him, but now at the edge of it all he steeled his heart as he had many times in the two wars when he had chosen to bleed for his world, when he had chosen others to sacrifice alongside himself.

"So be it," he muttered and opened his eyes that so many knew to twinkle blue in indulgent amusement, but in this instance behind the lids there were no eyes. Instead they opened to hollow wells that spilled cerulean liquid, thin and smoky, to his cupped hands.

Behind him and around him the hidden marks on the ceiling opened, lighting up in bronze light and began spinning like gears and cogs in a machine. The frozen raised scripts on the floor began undulating again in their twisting paths.

With his magical eyes, but for the moment blind eyes he looked at the boy lying in the bed. The lightning scar on his forehead sat looking like an innocuous curiosity.

And then Albus Dumbledore provoked the evil he had come to battle, not that he would ever let her know she was under attack.

"Meciel, my dear, it is time we spoke face to face," he called.

The runes above the bed shone and a curtain of bronze light fell straight down crashing on the young body of Harry Potter. From within it a startled woman with expressive silver eyes and dark silky hair stepped out in a flowing lily white dress from a time past many years.

Albus Dumbledore smiled seeing her presence in his mind, seldom had such an unworldly beauty stood in his way.

"Welcome to the outside world, Temptress." The cerulean liquid continued to pool in his hands and all his magic was already weaving around Harry Potter while Meciel stared at him in the most attractive picture of shock he had ever seen.

"How?" Meciel exclaimed, but then realizing she was betraying her surprise, gathered herself in her usual poise. She stared at Dumbledore with a haughty look promising pain. "How have you separated me from my host?"

"Now, my lady, I must be allowed my secrets," Dumbledore demurred with a pleasant smile. His eyes were still blind hollows, spewing the gaseous azure pooling in his hands.

"That was always the way of sorcerers." Meciel scoffed and threw her head back so the magnificent waves of her hair snapped over her bare shoulder and took a step towards Dumbledore, letting her pale feet show below the hem of her ancient robes. "It has cost you, youngling; your sight in exchange for dividing a host and his fallen?" Meciel's voice was soft, sympathetic.

Dumbledore smiled and sighed when he felt the temptation in her voice caress him.

"I have not walked free under my own power in eons," she spoke with emotion, her words like a balm on Dumbledore's weariness. "Think of the gifts I can bestow on you, child. With my touch those old bones would run anew, creeping age would burn away to life. Knowledge of the worlds and millenniums will be at your feet."

Meciel had reached Dumbledore, her height equaling his considerable stature, a definition of beauty and grace. Her locks fell forward as she looked into his eyeless face from under her lashes, coy but powerful. "Give me your secret, tell me how you freed me, and all and more will be yours." She raised a hand, the cuff of her robed arm falling back to bare her fine skin, but as she was about to touch Dumbledore's aged face, the golden light falling from the ceiling brightened and she could not move forward anymore.

"What is this? A cage?" Meciel asked innocently, not yet revealing her annoyance.

"A limit to your influence, temptress, or more perhaps a surety against my own weakness," Dumbledore answered with a disappointed sigh.

"You need not fear me or what I offer. Come, release this binding rain on me, let me speak with you, let me soothe your hurts. Do you not want to feel the cool breeze of Heaven, the healing of its rivers, I have known them, and you can know them through me."

Dumbledore felt his concentration break under the fallen angel's assault. Her words weakened his resolve with insidious promises, each lilt and stress from her tongue manifesting in blissful sensations through him. Through it he silently cast the magicks that he had sworn to. He had expected to have trouble keeping her distracted, instead it was her who was pulling his attention away, to her, singularly to her.

The shimmer of golden glow from the falling magical light on her dark hair and her eyes hooded and enchanting whispered promises of their own besides the one she spoke with her tongue. He was not prepared for Hell's seduction that colored her words, passing without notice the protective magic he had invoked.

"My dear lady, a moment to breathe, please?" Dumbledore requested, his mental powers split between securing the unnatural magicks in the room, resisting Meciel and the magic he had done it all to cast.

"Embrace me," she whispered, and it hit him like a physical force, a sensual strike against his body and spirit. Two words demanding he take her as his savior.

"Back, demon, back!" Dumbledore suddenly shouted, bending his mind and will to her completely. The golden falling light dimmed, the spells grinding on the floor stilled and Meciel jerked back towards her host's body as if she had been struck.

Dumbeldore panted, afraid of himself; afraid how easily she had reached into him and stroked his weakness, his fallings. He saw the fallen angel look up at the ceiling where the magic had receded and give him a wicked smile before she leapt, trying to escape the confines he had built.

"Telos!" Dumbledore intoned harshly invoking the unnatural magic and she fell against the moving barriers he had formed.

"Telos?" she murmured, walking the circle, her gait graceful, shifting her silver robes so she once again looked as if she had not moments ago crashed into a magical barrier. Serene and calm she stood in front of Harry's unconscious form. "I shall teach my host that spell."

"We both know what stopped you is not simply that word." Dumbledore sighed, quickly finding the echo of Lily Potter's joy embedded in the room.

"I am not a fool, Dumbledore." Meciel's voice held no more warmth. "You will need protection. Mixing magic with the divine, how…depraved." Meciel gave a beatific smile, and Dumbledore shuddered. "Release me, and I will protect you from the consequences."

"You are most gracious, Meciel, but I am prepared for what will come of my actions," Dumbledore answered with half a mind, concentrating on taking a thing as tenuous as an echo of joy and immersing it in Harry. He was close, so very close to achieving what he had risked everything for. Meciel's words were true, he recognized, he would not be spared for abusing the divine powers as he had to separate her from Harry.

"Why did you do this, if not to release me? What do you hope to achieve?" Meciel demanded.

_There!_ Dumbledore thought, unable to keep the triumphant smile off his face. That perfect moment of celebration and joy had found its home in Harry's body, where already his mother's protection flowed. _It has to be enough to weaken Meciel's hold on him. Don't fail your son Lily, expel this usurper!_

"What are you doing?" Meciel's eyes widened and she whirled to look at her host, but found nothing.

"It is time Harry remembered someone loved him, more than the illusions you weave," Dumbledore finally answered her.

"Who?" Meciel demanded, her fury bubbling behind her expressive eyes.

"One who is already in him, his mother, of course."

"Her?" Meciel suddenly smiled, then let out a throaty laugh, forgetting to cloak its hellish soul. Dumbledore felt his blood run cold at the sound of unadulterated corruption. She waved a hand and at her feet appeared a naked woman, a metal choker on her neck chained to shackles on her feet and ankles. She lay on the floor, looking at Dumbledore with her unfocused green gaze, her red hair spilled haphazardly, hiding none of her modesty, still as beautiful and afraid as the day she had died.

"This pitiful reflection is what you put your faith in? A mindless emotion of protection," Meciel derided.

She stepped back and sat on the hospital bed putting a possessive hand on Harry's cheek. Dumbledore stared at Lily Potter's chained naked form stunned.

"She is not his mother, Dumbledore. _I_ am his mother!" she snarled, then visibly calmed herself. "And I am his lover, I am his everything," she crooned, no longer looking at Dumbledore but caressing the boy's cheek.

_Expel her, Lily, claim your son, wake up!_ Dumbledore spelled such enchantments of his creation to reignite Lily's protection on Harry. In front of his eyes he saw the echo of Lily's joy join the part of her Meciel had chained. It entered her body, eating at the shackles like acid. Lily's eyes focused and her back arched as some measure of sentience was imbued in her.

"You dare stand against me!" Meciel suddenly rose from the bed, hell fire pooled in her hands creeping down her bared arms to her body so she was clothed only in flame.

"Now Lily! Take her!" Dumbledore shouted. The image of a twenty year old woman stood and with stumbling steps lunged into the fiery nebula formed by Meciel. She disappeared within Meciel taller form, making the fallen angel fall back onto the bed, having lost her conjured hell fire.

She clutched her breast. "What have you done to me?" She gasped, frightened.

"I have made you capable of a mother's love, Meciel. You are a fallen with a heart, and now with Lily's hold on you, you can not harm Harry." Dumbledore collapsed on the engraved floor.

Meciel flew from the bed, her bonewyrm wings appearing, propelling her towards Dumbledore. She stretched her perfectly shaped nails towards him but was pulled back violently into Harry's body as the magic Dumbledore had invoked let go of the ancient curse on blackened denari; binding a host and fallen together.

She was once again trapped. After time uncountable Meciel knew more than revenge and hellish fury of her essence, because Lily's love for her son had already begun corrupting her damned existence, soon to trap her in a way heaven's displeasure never had.


End file.
